Morning Glory
by jeeno2
Summary: Katniss doesn't have the words to say it back to him. But she beams at him and tugs him back down for another languid kiss, hoping that somehow he understands that she loves it too. (Written for Day 1 of August 2014's Prompts in Panem.)


_a/n: Thank you SponsorMusings for the title. ;)_

_Fair warning - this is basically PWP. A bit of a departure for me._

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Katniss is woken from a deep sleep by Peeta nuzzling her cheek.

"Morning," he murmurs into the sensitive skin of her neck. His hand rests lightly on her stomach, and he slowly moves it upward until he's cupping her bare breast.

"Peeta," she grumbles warningly against the pillow. "It's too early for this." She doesn't want to wake up yet. She's not the baker in the household, and she doesn't keep baker's hours. She's not quite in the mood for _this_ right now.

But Peeta _is_ used to keeping baker's hours and is already wide awake. And undeterred. He's moving his head now, nudging her cheek again. She feels the stubble from his own cheek, the warm rough rasp of it against her skin making her shudder.

Peeta's lips are at her ear now. "_I_ don't think it's too early," he breathes. He presses up against her and she feels his cock, stiff and hard and hot, through his shorts, against the bare expanse of her stomach.

This – all of this – is new to them both. For weeks after returning to District Twelve they were too broken to so much as look at one another. It took another several months before they could trust each other enough to cuddle. To kiss. To sleep together, entwined in each other's arms.

And then one day – just like that; with little warning for either of them – he thrust himself inside her. Since that happened two weeks ago they've been insatiable, their red hot fiery passion for each other consuming them both. Now that Katniss knows what it feels like to have his talented tongue working the sensitive nub between her thighs, a day without it is like a day in hell.

Katniss doesn't even have to ask to know Peeta feels exactly the same way.

"Look, just because you're hard right now doesn't mean that…that…" Despite the frequency of their sex, Katniss still finds it a difficult subject to talk about. It feels too intimate a thing, somehow, to sully with words. "What I mean is your… your… gets hard _every_ morning. That doesn't mean we have to have sex when really we should still be sleeping."

Peeta's lips quirk up into a half-smile against her cheek. His breath is very warm, and his hand on her breast is moving now. He lightly, very lightly, ghosts over her nipples with his palms, causing them to pebble up against them. His rough callouses feel good – too good – against her sensitized skin, and she squirms involuntarily into his hands, belying her earlier claim that she's just too sleepy for this right now.

"It's true, Katniss. I do wake up hard every morning." His words are hot puffs of air against her neck, and her eyes flutter closed of their own accord. "But today is different."

"Oh?" she asks. Trying to sound disinterested. Trying to keep her voice level. "And why is that?"

He chuckles a little.

"I dreamed about you last night," he says.

She's half-tempted to tease him right now. To roll over onto her stomach to hide her face and her bare breasts from him. But she doesn't have the heart to do it. She curls against his broad chest and kisses him, slipping her tongue into his mouth while she draws her own calloused fingertips up his strong arms, heavily muscled again after the months he's spent rebuilding Twelve with everyone else.

"What did you dream about?" Katniss asks lightly, breaking away from him after a long moment. She has some idea what kind of dream it might have been, given how attentive he is right now. But she wants him to say it out loud. His arousal makes her feel powerful, somehow. It always does. If Peeta wants to fuck her at this ungodly hour she wants him to have to work for it.

"It was kind of a… sexy dream," he admits, his voice suddenly rough with want. He drops his hand down between her legs and cups her, very gently.

"I… I figured as much," she stutters, trying to ignore how damn _good_ it feels to have his fingers splayed against her center like this.

"In the dream you were sucking me off," he continues, whispering the words against her lips as he draws lazy circles against her growing wetness.

"Oh, is that all?" she asks. Trying to sound bored again. But her words come out shakier than she'd intended, and she cringes inwardly. "I thought something more than that must have happened, given how you're acting right now." She looks up at him through her eyelashes, and his grin widens.

"Well, yeah. A lot more than that _did_ happen, actually. But I'd rather show you what it was then tell you."

Katniss raises one eyebrow at him. "I already know how to… how to… " _Suck you off_, she finishes silently inside her head. Her cheeks go scarlet. "You don't need to show me how to do that."

He tenderly kisses the tip of her nose. "You do know how to suck me off, yes." He grins at her, having no problem whatsoever in giving words to the ecstatic things they do to each other now. "And I mean — you're actually really _good_ at getting me off with your mouth, Katniss. I mean… _god _you're good at it." He twitches once, hard, against her stomach. Like he's imaging her mouth on his cock right now. "But there's… well. Like I just told you, there was more in the dream than what you normally do for me."

She sits up, then, intrigued in spite of herself.

He sits up as well and gives her another quick kiss. He places his hands on either side of her head and gently guides her down to the front of his shorts, which tent out in front of him cartoonishly. She grumbles a little – still sleepy; still not entirely certain she wants to be doing this before the sun has even risen. But she complies with his wordless request anyway and pulls him of his shorts. She slowly, slowly circles the head with her tongue, teasing him, the way she knows he likes her to do, before suckling him. She hears his ragged intake of breath as he slides inside her mouth and she smiles against his hot, feverish flesh.

"Put your hands on either side of you," he instructs hoarsely as she continues to work him with hands and tongue.

She lifts her head and looks at him, confused. His eyes are half-lidded with desire, black pupils fat and ravenous inside his beautiful blue irises.

"Why?" she asks. But she braces her hands on the bed anyway.

Peeta doesn't answer her with words. Instead, he lifts her up and twists her around, pulling her center down towards his own mouth.

_Oh. Oh god. _

Her knees are suddenly on either side of his face and his lips are already moving against her core. He's licking, sucking at her as his stubbled cheeks brush up against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Her jaw goes slack and she lets him slip from her mouth. She has to; she just _can't_ focus on anything else when he's doing this to her. She clenches her legs around his head tightly, letting the warmth pooling out from her center wash over her entire body.

A moment later, though, Peeta stops.

Katniss makes a noise of frustration she's fairly sure she's never made before.

"Why'd you stop?" she demands brokenly.

"Because you stopped."

She makes a loud impatient noise and leans forward again, going back to sucking his cock and oh—_god_ it's distracting, having him doing _that_ while she's doing _this_. She shifts her hips, rocking them against his face without even realizing she's doing it, and he lifts his hips under her, his cock pressing more deeply into her mouth and throat. Turnabout being fair play, Katniss circles the head of his cock with her tongue, and a moment later, groaning loudly, Peeta pulls her clit into his mouth and sucks, hard. With a frustrated cry she traces the veins of his cock with the soft flat of her tongue while he swipes wetly and repeatedly against her slit.

Katniss flicks the spot where the crown meets his shaft over and over again with her tongue, sucking her lips around him and—

That's when she decides to finish him, quickly, so she can have his face between her legs again, without distraction, as soon as possible. She firmly grabs the base of his shaft with one hand and moves her head up and down with determination, faster and faster, taking him deeper into her mouth, into her throat, willing him to let go. She hollows out her cheeks and runs her tongue along the side of him, up and down, circling him, not giving him a moment's rest, not giving him a chance to catch his breath or think or retaliate against her.

A moment later his mouth falls away from her completely, no longer able to focus on licking her senseless, and Katniss hears him moan like a wounded animal, _feels_ him moan against her inner thigh. She feels the rush of his hot and salty release down her throat as he spurts inside her, his body going rigid beneath her as he falls apart.

She smiles to herself as she lets him go and rolls over onto the bed. There's no way she's going back to sleep now. Not until he gives her what she needs. She makes a little noise of impatience in the back of her throat and, when he does nothing but lie there, begins to draw tiny rapid circles against her clit with her fingertips. She looks over to Peeta again, desperately, and this time it's her own eyes that droop with desire.

After what feels like an eternity Peeta rolls over a little and grins at her wolfishly. And then suddenly his lips are on her again, and she feels him still smiling against her skin as his tongue probes at her. He doesn't go easy on her, circling her clit rapidly, sucking it into his mouth, lathing it with the achingly soft flat of his tongue it in every possible direction. She moans incoherently and thrusts her hips against his face and thrashes on the bed like a wild animal, but his tongue is relentless, pressing and circling and probing, pushing her precariously close to the edge.

When he slips two fingers into her and begins to pump them in and out, curling them slightly, Katniss comes apart with a ragged cry, trembling and spasming as the pleasure crests inside her. She gasps, and grips his legs tightly between own before collapsing into a boneless heap on the bed.

She rolls off him at some point, sighing deeply.

He chuckles quietly and kisses her forehead, damp with sweat.

"Katniss?" he says very quietly. She rolls over a little and kisses his lips again. Chastely, this time. She can taste herself on him, the way she always can after he makes her come with his mouth, and she smiles.

"Yeah?"

"I love this," he says earnestly. At her questioning look he gestures to himself, to her, her bed, the room around them. Like that explains everything better than words ever could. He grins at her then, his eyes very bright.

Katniss doesn't have the words to say it back to him. Not yet. Perhaps not ever. But she beams at him and tugs him back down for another languid kiss, hoping that somehow he understands that she loves it too.


End file.
